Clearly, Ye've Never Been to Singapore
by Rae Roberts
Summary: Long before he was captain of the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow was just an unremarkable cabin boy...or was he ? How he got his hairstyle, learned to dive, and unraveled the mysteries of eyeliner. Complete.
1. Shore Leave in Singapore

Singapore. Means "City of Lions", or so Mister Phillips says. Pathetic little fishing village that wouldn't be of any interest to anyone exceptin' for the tea trade, says I. And here am I, Jack Sparrow, on shore leave without so much as a guinea to me name, and all thanks to Mister Phillips.

"Ye ought to hold back Jackie's pay for him, Cap'n," says he. "So he don't run off like the other cabin boy did." Aye, well, Danny wouldn't have run off if it weren't for Mister Phillips, who'd made our lives hell ever since he came aboard six months ago. Mister Phillips, with his endless lessons in navigation and mathematics. And readin' and writin', even – as if a sailor had any use for that ! Cap'n never bothered none about that 'til _he _came aboard. Me and Danny, we knew the ropes and the points of the compass, and Cap'n left us alone, long as we did our work. Which was plenty enough to keep us busy.

But now, since Danny jumped ship at the last port, here's poor Jack with twice the work to do. And here's Phillips goin' twice as hard with the lessons, even beatin' me with a rope when I don't learn 'em fast enough to suit him. Laughin' all careless-like, tellin' me it's for me own good. I hate Phillips.

But enough about him. I've got a full day ashore. There's bound to be somethin' of interest in Singapore, if I look hard enough. First, somethin' to eat. I'm always hungry. Cap'n says it ain't that they don't feed me enough; it's just that I'm growin' so fast. I wish I would grow faster. I'd like to stop bein' so scrawny and get some muscles. Well, I have muscles, but I'd like the kind that show. And a beard. I'd like to grow a beard, not just these few paltry whiskers – I'd braid it and look fierce.

Anyway, I avoid the stalls sellin' dog meat or monkey brains, and get meself some food that looks and smells as though it won't kill me too quick. And that takes care of most of me money, thanks to Mister Phillips. It really isn't fair.

I meet up with a couple of sailors from the _Bristol Maid _and we all wind up in a little tavern tucked away on a side alley. Sure enough old loud-mouth Phillips is there, holdin' forth about the crown givin' out letters of marque and how profitable it would be to raid and plunder the Spanish and the Dutch. None of the other sailors pay him much mind, and after a while Mister Phillips stows it.

Soon, I'm bored. I haven't got enough money to get drunk like the rest of the crew is. And they're all flirtin' with some local strumpets. None of said wenches bein' the least bit interested in a scrawny cabin boy, even if there was a single one not old enough to be me mother. Then I notice Mister Phillips slippin' out the back, all furtive and sneaky-like. This could be interestin'. I slips out too and follows him through the darkened streets.

Headin' away from the harbor, me and Phillips get to a better part of town. Here there are lanterns lit along the way, and the houses are set back behind high walls. I have to hang back and slip from tree to tree, keepin' out of sight. Soon Phillips leaves the broad, tree-lined street, and keeps to the narrow alleyways between houses. He ducks around a corner. I wait a few seconds and duck after him. It's dark as the hold of the _Bristol Maid_ at midnight. I feel my way along the wall to another corner.

Sneakin' a look around, I see light leakin' out from behind a curtained doorway. There's no sign of Phillips. I tiptoe up to the door and take a peek inside. Before I can even get a good look, a big hand comes down and grabs the scruff of me neck. I start to kick and yell, but another hand clamps over me mouth. "What are ye up to, ye little bastard ?" growls a voice in me ear. It's me old friend Phillips.

"Keep quiet," says he, removing his hand from me mouth before I can bite him, but still holdin' tight to me neck with his other hand. "What do ye mean by followin' me ?"

"Well, sir, I was worried for yer safety," I lie, thinkin' quick. "Singapore is a dangerous place, ye know." A woman has come to the door, alerted by the sound of our brief scuffle. She doesn't seem at all surprised to see two sailors on her doorstep. She's pretty, about Phillips age, I'd guess.

Speakin' of the big ape, he gives a loud snort. "Worried about me, were ye ? I doubt it. Ye were just bein' nosy." The woman giggles. "Jackie me lad, meet Murni. My, _ahem_, lady friend." He coughs. She giggles. I squirm. His big paw is hurtin' me neck. Abruptly, he lets go, shovin' me away. "Get out of here, boy." I oblige all hasty-like, backin' away down the alley. "And Jackie ?" Phillips calls, "Stay out of trouble."

Well, I would, but like I said, the alleys are as dark as pitch. Soon I'm lost, blunderin' around in the dark. After a while, the moon comes up. I find meself in yet another narrow little back lane, this one with a big pile of straw in it, under a little spindly tree. I can hear goats bleatin' in a courtyard off to me left somewhere. That would explain the straw. It bein' unoccupied, and me bein' tired, I lay down and make meself comfortable for the night.

From this vantage point, I can see into the second story window of the house over the wall to me right. There's a light there, and I can see somebody movin' around. Suddenly I'm not tired anymore. I watch for a long time, until the light goes out.

Now just as I'm driftin' off to sleep, I hears a noise. And what do ye suppose, here's that same somebody climbin' up on top of the wall. I can tell it's a girl, because she's smaller than me and all covered up in a long veil like the local women wear, savvy ? She climbs up and crouches there, lookin' right down at me. I lie still in me pile of staw, me heart beatin' like a drum. Then I understand. Up there in the moonlight, she shows up plain as can be. But down in the darkness of the alley, I'm invisible. I relax and wait to see what she'll do.

She crouches on the wall for a long time, motionless. Then she stands up a bit and braces herself to jump. The wall is only about eight feet high, but she doesn't jump. She crouches back down, then stands up and balances again. Will she jump this time ? No, and not the next time either. I realize she's afraid. Watchin' the girl in the moonlight, I imagine that she's a caged bird, wantin' desperately to escape. But even though the door to the cage has been left wide open, the bird's wings have been clipped and it can't fly away.

I start to feel sorry for the girl, but while I'm tryin' to decide what to do, she comes up with a new plan. She lays down on her belly on the wall and hangs her legs over the side. She squirms around until she is hangin' from the top of the wall, holdin' on with her arms. Even then, she's afraid to let go. I watch her dangle there for a while. I can hear her breath, sort of gaspin'. She won't be able to hold on for much longer. I wonder if I should try to catch her, but I reckon she'll be frightened and scream. Finally her arms give out and she drops to the ground.

Pitter-patter, she's gone, run away down the alley. I just have to laugh then. The little caged bird has managed to fly away after all. I snuggle down in me pile of straw and go to sleep.


	2. Runaway

Mornin' in Singapore. I'm back at the harbor, strollin' along, eatin' some kind of flat bread I've nicked from a stall. I know it's wrong to steal, but I've got no more coins in me pocket, so there don't seem much choice. I'm contemplatin' a stall sellin' fruit, and thinkin' it's a long time until the tide turns and me ship sails, when who do I see but me little bird. She's just left the very stall I was lookin' at.

I follow her as she picks her way along the road, eatin' the mango she just bought, without a care in the world, it seems. She really makes me laugh. Her veil is an old, tattered thing, coarse and dull brown, wrapped around her from head to toe. She must think she'll pass as one of the peasant girls, but she ain't foolin' anyone. Old as her clothes may be, they're the cleanest thing to be seen along the quayside. And her hands are pale and soft, not dirty and callused like a peasant girl's would be. When she turns her head to look at the sea, her veil falls back a bit, showin' beaded gold ear-rings.

I can tell she's used to wearing shoes, too. Every time she comes to some gravel in the road, she has to stop and pick her way across, tryin' not to bruise her dainty little feet. Watchin' her hop along so very careful-like reminds me of a bird again.

"Hello there, love," I says, catchin' up to her. Her eyes go wide for a second, then she sneers at me and says somethin'. I don't speak her lingo, but whatever she says, it don't sound friendly. But even her sneer is pretty. She puts her little nose in the air and goes on her way. I stand there in the road like the fool that I am. What did I expect ? Though I watched over her escape, and even thought that I'd like to help her, she's never even seen me before. I might feel as though I know this girl, as though she's somehow mine, but to her I'm just a dirty sailor boy. I suddenly imagine Mister Phillips, takin' up a piece of rope and beatin' me with it for actin' so stupid. Good for me he's not around.

But I see that I'm not the only one takin' an interest in me little bird. There's two rough-lookin' native men strollin' along behind her now, one to either side. Now I can't stand by and let anyone hurt me sweet girl, even if she does think I'm not worth a second glance. I run after 'em, yellin' bloody murder. Me girl turns and lets out a little scream. She dodges away, just as one of the thugs takes a swing at me. The other thug grabs for her, but seein' as she's just ducked out of me way, he misses. She runs toward an alley.

"Not the alley, love !" I yell, exasperated. She really doesn't know anythin' about survival. Stay on the main street and lose 'em in the crowd while I distract 'em, I think. To which end, I kick the nearest tough in the soft bits. It may be a dirty trick, but he's almost twice my size, so what else am I supposed to do ? I dive after the other one, who's headin' for the alley.

Just then me little bird comes racin' back out of the alley, holdin' her veil up above her knees so she can run faster. There's a third tough chasin' after her. I start to feel just a bit flustered – I can handle two, but three grown men against one little me is a bit much, savvy ? The thug I'm chasin' makes a grab for her, but she dodges past him. He wheels around and nearly runs me down. I grab him and we scuffle for a moment, but then he throws me aside like a sack of flour and runs after me girl.

I hit the ground hard. It takes a moment to catch me breath, and then I see me little bird, standin' on the sea wall. Her eyes are wide, dartin' from one side to the other as the two men close in on her from either side. I'm pleased to see the third one is just crawlin' to his feet, still clutchin' his privates in pain. Just then one of the thugs makes a grab for me girl, and with a wild cry she half turns away from him and jumps right into the sea.

A crowd is gatherin' now, finally, and the thugs slink away as people start to run up. I'm proud of me pretty bird, knowin' how she's afraid of heights. It was brave of her, jumpin' right off that wall without hesitatin' at all. But as I run up and look down into the water, I see we have a new problem. Me brave little girl is no water fowl – she's sunk beneath the waves of the bay. And here stand sailors and shopkeepers and peasants, all starin' slack-jawed while she drowns.

"Out of me way," I yell, and dive in after her. I take a moment to thank me lucky stars that Mister Phillips insisted that I learn to swim. Even though he did throw me overboard and nearly drowned me as part of the learnin' process, it's comin' in handy now. I splash around and manage to get a grip on me poor drownin' girl somehow. She's heavy, that waterlogged veil weighin' her down. I try to hold her head up, but it's nearly impossible to hold her and keep me own head above water at the same time. "A little help here ?" I yell to the crowd of gawkers above us. It seems like forever until finally some city guards arrive and lower poles and ropes and haul the girl to safety.

Of course no one pays Jack Sparrow any mind and it takes me a minute to scramble back up onto the quay. Out of the corner of me eye I see that the thug that I'd kicked is bein' held by two guards, but me main attention is on the little knot of guards around me girl. I push me way through. One of 'em tries to hold me back, jabberin' somethin'. I may not speak the native lingo, but I know somehow that he's sayin' she's dead. She's lyin' there in the road, veil wrapped around her like a shroud.

It can't be. I rip the veil off her face. Her skin is gray. The guards are yammerin' at me. I pay no attention. Not knowin' what else to do, I grab me bird by the shoulders and shake her, hard. I can feel tears stingin' me eyes. Then she gives a little cough, and all of a sudden she vomits sea water all over me shirt. I hold her in me arms and watch her face go from grey to tan. She's breathin' again. The color comes back into her lips and her eyelids flutter. Then she looks up at me and smiles. Then I just I have to laugh, I'm so relieved – and her face is all red now. She's blushin'. "Better out than in, love," I say about the salt water. "Never mind about the shirt," I tell her, even though I know she don't speak English. I think I could sit here in the dirt and just hold her forever.

Then a guard is shoutin' and grabbin' her out of me arms, and another guard has got me by the scruff of the neck. It really does spoil the mood. There's an old man standin' there all of a sudden, and he's huggin' me girl to him and yellin' orders. Next thing I know, I'm marched off to gaol.


	3. Princess

The good news is that the thug who tried to kidnap me bird ends up with his head on a pike. The bad news is, yers truly is beaten and strung up in chains in a dungeon. It really don't seem fair. I hang there by me wrists for a while – which if ye've never experienced it, I can tell ye, is not that pleasant - until me poor back stops smartin' quite so bad and I can think clearly again. I get the idea that scrawny as I am, I can slip me wrists out of the chains. Just as long as I don't mind losin' some skin. What I'll do about the locked door and the guards, I don't know. One thing at a time, Jack, I tells meself.

While I'm slowly slidin' the manacle off over me right hand, and not havin' a very easy time of it, who do ye think shows up but Mister Phillips. Of all me mates from the _Bristol Maid_, he's the last one I want to see. He stands there with one of the guards, glarin' at me. I can't imagine why. None of this is my fault.

"Jackie. Oh, Jackie," he says, shakin' his head.

"Mister Phillips," I says. There don't seem to be much else to say to him.

"I told ye to stay out of trouble. What are ye up to now ?" he asks.

I don't answer, seein' as on the one hand, it's obvious. Any fool can see that I'm just hangin' around. And on the other hand, which I'm tryin' to get the manacle off of - well, it don't seem wise to say so in front of the guard, just in case he might understand English, savvy ?

Phillips leans against the bars of me cell. "Ye've run afoul of one of the Sultans, Jackie," he informs me. "Molestin' his daughter. I don't know if I'll be able to get ye out of this."

It really wasn't fair. "I was savin' her from bein' kidnapped," I point out. "And drownin'. It's not me fault that she had a busy mornin'."

"Keep yer spirits up, boy," he says to me, "I may be able to bribe someone..." I can tell he's tryin' to think of a plan, and I start not to hate him quite so much.

"Where's the Cap'n ?" I ask. Phillips just laughs, no longer glarin', actin' just as though he don't care. And then he goes away and leaves me there. I hate him.

After a long time I manage to get me right hand free, at the cost of a lot of skin and a little blood. And there's still the locked cell door. I decide to rest for a while. Me poor back hurts - the guards had beaten me worse than Mister Phillips ever had. I wonder if he's makin' any progress. Just then, the same guard comes back, along with the tallest, fattest man I have ever seen. The guard unlocks the door and proceeds to unchain me left hand. His eyebrows go up when he sees me right hand is already free, but he don't say nothin', just unlocks the empty manacle.

Then he shoves me toward the huge man, who grabs me by the scruff of the neck and hauls me out of the gaol. I'm glad to be out of that cell, but I'm gettin' tired of just anyone grabbin' hold of me neck whenever they feel like it. This latest fellow drags me along for a while without comment. "So where are we goin' ?" I ask him finally. To me surprise, the giant answers in English. His voice is strange - soft, sort of high-pitched, and his accent is thick, but I can understand most of what he says.

"You saved the life of the Sultan Ibrahim's daughter," he replies. "The Princess Saleha wishes to thank you." He don't seem too happy about it.

So me little bird is a princess. It don't surprise me, really. It's nice to finally know her name. Saleha. The huge man keeps on draggin' me along by the scruff of the neck. I'm really gettin' tired of it. I tries to wriggle away from him, but he just cuffs me with his other hand. Then I try to make conversation with him, but I don't get any more out of him but his name, Azizi. We follow the same route Phillips had led me the night before, but turn down a different alley. Azizi drags me through a little courtyard and up a flight of stairs into a large room with curtains and rugs and pillows on the floor and a balcony. I can't tell for certain but I suspect it's the same room where I had first caught sight of Saleha.

There's a whole gaggle of people here too. After a confused moment or two I realize somthin' interestin'. They're all female. They're gigglin' and twitterin' along, makin' no sense to me. Azizi pushes me down on me knees on a rug. And then, there's Saleha, kneelin' right in front of me. She takes me hands in hers and says somethin' to me. I knew without the big fat man tellin' me, that she's thankin' me for savin' her life. "No trouble at all, Saleha me love," I tells her.

The old ratty veil is gone, of course, and she's wearin' some sort of shiny silk clothes and loads of jewelry. Saleha could be wearin' old sail cloth for all I care – she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She's smilin' at me, but then she looks down at me hurt wrist and frowns. She snaps some orders and some of the crowd of women leave off their jabberin' and rush around, doin' me girl's biddin'. But then one of them, an old wrinkled hag, comes right up and takes me little bird away, pullin' her by the hand. Saleha looks back at me, sad, I think, but resigned. She lets the old crone lead her out of the room.

I don't like seein' her go, and me prospects look even worse when three or four young girls start bringin' in buckets of hot water and fillin' a bath tub. Then a fat woman comes over and starts man-handlin' me, tryin' to take off me shirt. Now I admit me shirt is pretty much ruined. It wasn't much to begin with, and after bein' whipped back at the gaol, it's just about hangin' off me in tatters. But I still don't like the way things are goin', so I squirm away from the pudgy strumpet.

But no luck. Azizi, lookin' pleased for the first time since I've met him, gets a good grip on the scruff of me neck, and before I know it, Fatty has gotten me out of not only me shirt but me britches too. In front of all those women, who laugh and carry on as if they'd never seen a man before. And even though they took me caged bird away, they let the rest of the girls stay and watch. It really isn't fair.

Azizi throws me into the tub and the whole crowd of strumpets descend like a flock of harpies. I fight like a madman but it don't do me no good. Gigglin' and yammerin', they commence to washin' with great vigor until I'm sure most of me skin has been scrubbed right off. Then they start in on me hair, and yank and pull until it wouldn't have surprised me if I'd come out of that tub as bald as me old Cap'n. I'm half drowned by the time they're done. And Azizi just stands there and laughs. I'm really beginnin' to dislike him.

Finally those she-devils ease up a bit with the scrubbin' and let me get out of the tub. One of 'em brings some kind of salve for the welts on me back, which feels cool and soothin', and one one of 'em wraps a bandage around me wrist. Finally they bring me some red silky trousers and a kind of short blouse. I'm more than happy to cover up by now – the way they all kept lookin' and gigglin' was really disconcertin' – but I can't help but notice they'd brought me girl's clothes. At least the women of Singapore wear baggy trousers and not skirts. "Where's me own clothes ?" I ask Azizi.

"They were disgusting," he says, all haughty-like, "and besides, this is the Sultan's hareem. The women's quarters," he adds, seein' as I don't savvy. "There are no men allowed here."

"But yer a man," I points out.

He kind of grimaces at me. "I am here to guard the women of the Sultan's household," he says coldly.

I grin at him. "Ain't that like the fox guardin' the hen house ?" I ask. "Ye are a man, after all."

Azizi goes a bit red in the face. "I am a eunuch," he replies.

"Eh ? Wot's a eunch ?" I ask, but just then the fat wench comes up with a tray of cosmetics. She sits me down on me knees and proceeds to put rouge on me face, accompanied by plenty of chatterin' from the other women, all givin' her advice on how best to make me up like a girl, apparently. I'm not happy about it, but I don't raise too much of a fuss. Because if I'm disguised as a girl, I get to stay here with Saleha, savvy ?

Just then the old crone comes back with me lovely princess, and she sits right down beside me. I'm so glad to see her, even though it is a bit embarrasin', her havin' returned just as I'm havin' me face powdered, apparently to hide me few whiskers. I'd like to hold me pretty bird's hand, but now Fatty is puttin' some black powder around me eyes, usin' a little pointy stick. I keep still as a stone until she's done, not wantin' to give her any excuse to poke me eye out. Then Saleha holds up a looking-glass for me to see the effect. I could do without the rouge and the powder, but I do like the black around me eyes very much.

Now the other wenches' jabberin' has reached a serious pitch and one of 'em brings out a pair of scissors and brandishes 'em at me head. "Oh, no, not me hair," I tells 'em. I won't stand for it. Cap'n's always tryin' to get me to cut off me hair. It's not me fault that it tangles and knots up and won't stay in a proper queue. I waves me hands at the harpy with the scissors, tryin' to shoo her away. "Ye ain't cuttin' off me hair !"

Me little princess comes to me rescue. She issues orders and everyone scurries again. Then Saleha kneels in front of me and smooths me hair back from me face with her hands. A shiver runs down me spine. We're lookin' into each other's eyes, practically nose to nose. She smells like flowers. Come to think of it, so do I. She doesn't seem to mind.

The women bring out combs and brushes and boxes of jewelry and then step back to let her try her hand at fixin' me up. I'm just as happy as can be, kneelin' here with me pretty bird, watchin' her lips move and the expressions crossin' her face as she talks to me. Azizi keeps interruptin', tryin' to translate into English for me, but I finally tells him to stow it. I don't need him to tell me what me own girl is sayin' – I understand her meanin', if not her words. I think Saleha feels the same way – she appears to understand me too. And besides, I just want to listen to the sound of her voice.

Saleha braids some of me hair and threads beads into it – silver trinkets and colored ones that might be jade, or maybe coral. The old hag stops her when she tries to put gold beads on me head. I get the idea that even though me girl is the princess, this old lady rules the roost here. When she's not lookin', I takes Saleha's hand. I place a kiss in her palm. She blushes and smiles at me and I just smile back at her without a care in the world. Through the doorway out to the balcony, I can see the sun is settin' and I wonder if the _Bristol Maid_ is puttin' out to sea. I don't think me Cap'n would leave me behind. But I don't even care.

Finally Saleha covers the bandage on me wrist with a heavy silver bracelet and ties a red silk scarf around me head and me disguise is complete. Or nearly complete. After all that work, the fat one brings out a big veil and they muffle me from head to toes. Ye'd never know if it were Jack Sparrow under there or Queen Jezebel herself.


	4. Fortune and Adventure

Now we head out, down the stairs and across the courtyard and into another big room with low tables laid out for a banquet. From listening to Azizi and to Saleha, I've managed to figure out that me princess is fifteen – me own age – and goin' to be married very soon to another Sultan of the city. Her husband-to-be, a wealthy man named Sultan Amid bin Yusouf, is bein' entertained at dinner tonight. It hardly seems fair, havin' just met Saleha, that I'm to lose her to another man. It's like a kind of torture to watch me very own girl servin' wine to a rich git who looks to be a good twenty years older than her.

The old woman who seems to rule the roost in the hareem sits next to Saleha's father, old Sultan Ibrahim, quiet as a mouse. By now I savvy that she's the Sultan's mother and she really does lord it over all the other women. But me little bird is her granddaughter, and the old bat's favorite at that. Old Granny lets Saleha have her way with most things, which is why I'm here in the mansion and not chained up in the gaol.

Some of the young women dance and others serve the food, but I sit way back in the shadows, wedged between Fatty and Azizi. Which suits me fine, except it is a bit crowded, scrawny little me next to those two hippos. "If the Sultan saw you here, he'd soon see to it that you were made a eunuch too," Azizi mutters. He seems happy about the idea.

"Aye, but wot's a eunuch ?" I ask him again, but he just laughs, with that odd high-pitched laugh of his. It's not very pleasant. Finally the banquet is over, and the entire gaggle of women troop back across to the hareem. Only Azizi grabs hold of me - ye guessed it - by the scruff of the neck. Before I can say a word to Saleha, he takes me down a hallway to a little room, not more than a closet, really, and tosses me inside. I hear a key turn in the lock after he shuts the door.

I makes the best of it. After I unwind the veil, which is quite constrictin', I have meself a lie down on some pillows. I really do believe me cell is just a storage closet, but it's comfortable enough. A bit of light trickles in under the doorway, but after a while they blow out the lamps in the hallway and I drift off to sleep.

The snick of the key turnin' in the lock wakes me up in the wee hours before dawn, and Saleha slips into me cell, shuttin' the door behind her. "Jack," she whispers, huggin' me, and she says some other things that I take to mean that she's had to wait all this time for Azizi to fall asleep so she can nick the key and sneak away.

"I knew ye'd manage it somehow, love," I tells me brave girl, and then we're kissin' one another and we don't say anythin' more. Up to now I haven't had much experience with women, and I'm sure Saleha has had no experience with men, but we're determined to make the best of the situation we now find ourselves in, savvy ? Soon it gets quite hot and breathless in our little nest, and I'm discoverin' all sorts of interestin' facts. Such as, the finest silk feels rough as old rope when compared to me princess' skin. We're both so caught up in the moment that neither of us hears the footsteps in the hall, so consequently we're caught off guard when the door suddenly opens.

And here's Azizi, grabbin' me neck in a way that has become all too familiar. Just as me and Saleha were getting' to a point where somethin' - not just interestin', but really wonderful and glorious - was about to happen, too. It's just so awfully unfair. He drags me right out of the closet as the old Granny and Fatty swoop down and drag out Saleha, coverin' her up with a veil and hissin' at her in furious whispers. And that's the last I see of her as the giant hauls me, none too gently, right off to a doorway and tosses me out into the alley.

Azizi throws me so hard that I could have broken me neck, except who should be lurkin' in the alley but Mister Phillips, and he breaks me fall. I can't tell you how ungrateful I am – bein' torn out of the arms of me princess and thrown into the arms of Mister Phillips – it completely spoiled the mood.

I hauls me trousers up and we set off at a run. It seems there ain't goin' to be any pursuit though, and we slow down and slink back to the harbor through the alleyways. "Well, Jackie, ye have the devil's own luck," Phillips says as we make our escape. I don't entirely agree with him - if I'd been really lucky, Azizi could have waited just a few more minutes to open that door - but I'm not in the mood for an argument.

When we get down to the harbor, I'm surprised to see that the _Bristol Maid_ is gone. "So Cap'n didn't even wait for me," I say, a bit downhearted about it. Phillips just laughs. I get angry. "He has me pay, too, thanks to you," I point out.

Mister Phillips shakes his head and pulls out a little purse, which gives off a merry jingle when he shakes it. "Nicked it," he says, all smug-like. He points to a little ship anchored out in the harbor. "We'll ship out tonight, Jackie me lad. There's dozens of little islands and hideaways in these waters; we'll find some like-minded buccaneers and get ourselves into a profitable situation."

"Ye mean for us to turn pirate," I says, frownin' as I think it over. "Ye do know that's illegal."

"That's freedom, lad," he says, suddenly fierce. "Freedom." And then he laughs his careless laugh. "And a life of fortune and adventure."

"Me own life ain't been very free since ye've come into it, Mister Phillips," I tells him.

"That's where ye're wrong, Jackie," he lectures. "Haven't I taught ye what ye need to survive ? To make yer own way in the world ?" He doesn't pause to let me get a word in. "It's a hard life for everyone, lad, landlubbers as well as sailors. But ye and me, we'll make the best of it. Take what ye can," he insists, "and give nothin' back."

That gives me an idea. "We have to go back and rescue Saleha," I tells him. "Yer girl Murni, too," I says, generously. "We can take 'em with us."

Mister Phillips just laughs some more. "Impossible," he says when I try to argue. "Ye're lucky the Sultan's guards aren't after ye right now. They'd have yer head on a pike, but not before they'd made a eunuch out of ye."

"For the last time, wot's a eunuch ?" I demand, exasperated. So then Phillips finally tells me, and I feel a little bit sick. "But, me princess," I plead, not quite willin' to give up.

"Ah, Mister Sparrow," he says, not even laughin' at all. "Ye're a pirate. She's a princess. It would never work out." And then he leans down and looks at me all serious-like. "Listen, Jack, ye have the wit – and the luck – to really make somethin' of yerself. Ye'll be a captain by the time yer twenty," he predicts. He's talkin' to me as though I'm an equal, savvy ? And in spite of meself, I'm startin' to believe him. "Don't ye see, that's what I been tryin' to get through to ye all these months."

Then he laughs, just like he always does. "Yer lady friend will forget all about ye. She'll just go on livin' the life of comfort she's accustomed to." It hurts to admit it, but I know Phillips is right. I was almost likin' him for a while, there, but now I start hatin' him again.

"What about yer own lady friend," I ask him, sarcastic.

"Wot, Murni ? She's no princess, lad, she's just a common maid in Sultan Yusouf's mansion. Ye don't see me wastin' away and pinin' for her, do ye ?" He seems to expect an answer, so I shakes me head. "That's right, and neither does she pine for me. But I do visit her whenever I'm in port," he leers.

Sultan Yusouf, is it ? Well, ain't that a coincidence – me little bird's bridegroom. I perk up quite a bit at that. "We'll just have to come back and visit them both, next time we're in port, Mister Phillips," I tells him.

"Mister Sparrow, ye just might be crazy enough to manage it," he says. And then we set off in search of fortune and adventure. And freedom.

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Author's notes: Many thanks to Cunien and the rest of the buccaneers at _Tortuga's Finest_ for providing the inspiration and first home for this story, and to Luinecu for taking the time to leave a review here on FanFiction.


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